


Invoking (Provoking) The Muse

by AxiomRequests (twofoldAxiom)



Category: Chain Chronicle (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad Poetry, Genderbending, Interrupted Sex, M/M, Male Nayel, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 07:57:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15626244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twofoldAxiom/pseuds/AxiomRequests
Summary: Sex with a poet gets poetic, actually, and that probably isn't a good thing. Isach learns this through experience.





	Invoking (Provoking) The Muse

**Author's Note:**

> For mount-vines over tumblr. I'm sorry this took so long!
> 
> IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: This was written to the specifications of the person requesting it to the best of my ability with the information I had on hand. I apologize if the characterization and details are off, as I have never written for or heard of these characters before, and certain details have been changed for mount-vines' preference.
> 
> Due to these issues, I would advise reading this as if it were written with a pair of original characters in mind who just so happen to share the same names as pre-established characters.

  Isach didn't often notice Nayel looking out of sorts. Some days he believed Nayel never  _got_  out of sorts. It was easy to get caught up in the flurry of his activity, always bounding from the next project to the next show to the next song, with hardly any time to eat or sleep besides. If he wasn't bouncing around like there was no end to his energy, he was hard at work at his desk getting ready for a performance, writing poetry or lyrics in the kind of frenzy that Nayel was sure no other could match.

And recently, if he wasn't up to that, he was with Isach, plying him for kisses or luck or I-love-you's that Isach still had to get used to. Not that it was ever unwelcome, but Isach did find it a little overwhelming at times.

Now, though.

Isach peered through a crack in the door as Nayel muttered to himself, tossing scraps of crumpled paper to the sides as he tried in vain to chase after an unwilling muse. Every so often he would pause to nibble a plate of fruit set to the side, or pluck a few notes on his lyre, counting to himself in tune with it as if he were measuring the notes. 

He probably was, or something to that effect; Isach didn't pretend to know anything about music.

He  _did_  know that Nayel was getting worked up, though, when Nayel slammed his pen down on the table with a disgusted, frustrated  _ugh_. He got up and started pacing, muttering to himself, before he noticed Isach peering in through the door. His expression smoothed over and softened immediately.

"Just the man I needed to see." Nayel smiled, warmly, so even if there might have been an edge to his voice, Isach couldn't help but feel welcome anyway. Nayel didn't seem so satisfied with that, shaking his head. "I mean it, really; please, come in and help me."

Isach blinked, but opened the door, closing it as he stepped around it. "... Help you?"

"Yes, exactly." The look in Nayel's eye was turning bright again, mischievous even, especially the way his gaze swept up and down Isach's body. His voice turned a little huskier as he approached. "You know my  _favorite_  topic for songwriting?"

Isach blushed, but counted off on his fingers. "Love, a pair of lovers, the  _activities_  of lovers..."

"You, too." Nayel cut in. 

"Me, too." Isach added, before he sputtered and stopped counting. "... Me?"

Nayel's smile widened, and he closed the distance between them, pulling Isach flush against him. "In this particular instance and others, yes." When Isach only looked even more confused, Nayel continued. "You didn't think I was writing all that for an  _imaginary_  lover, did you?"

"Well..." Isach looked back towards the desk, the scribbles of frustration on bits of scrap and sometimes the wood, and the neat whorls of song that still only filled half a page of parchment in evenly-lettered lines. He thought about the show from just a few nights ago, and thought of Nayel's words to him every so often.

"Well?" Nayel purred in his ear, pressing a kiss to the curve of his jaw.

Isach gulped. "You were writing about... me?"

"Of course." Nayel pulled back just enough to be nose to nose with Isach, eyes half-lidded and the corners of his mouth turned up in an impish little smirk. "And I need your help to make more of it."

Isach glanced at the table again, and Nayel let him, letting him turn towards it and take a few steps forward before he wrapped his arms around Isach's waist.

"I just need a little more inspiration. A little hands-on reminder of what it's like." Nayel's breath ghosted over Isach's ear and Isach felt a little shiver of desire run down his whole body, prickling across his scalp and the back of his neck. "You've missed me too, I'm sure. And I'm sorry that I've been so caught up in myself that I haven't been able to take care of you  _properly_."

"You don't have to take care of me." Isach blurted out, and Nayel laughed; it made heat pool in Isach's face, and a similar warmth pooled in the pit of his gut in turn, stoking a fire that he could tell was the very beginning of arousal. "I don't want to be a bother to you like that, and I'm not sure how I feel about being material for songs other people are meant to listen to."

"That doesn't mean I don't want to take care of you, love." Nayel nuzzled at the nape of Isach's neck. "Think of the fact that I'll be getting material out of it as a side-effect, rather than a true motive. I do love you, you know; and that means I love spending time with you, spending time on you, getting my hands all over you..." Nayel's hands were wandering, and Isach couldn't help the breath that rushed out of him when Nayel's hands slid over his sides and then over his belly, towards his crotch.

Isach grabbed hold of Nayel's wrist, blushing fiercely. "I think you've made your point." He said, brusquely, though Nayel could probably hear the smile in his voice regardless because he merely pressed another kiss to Isach's neck.

"I take it that means you'll help me, then?" He murmured against Isach's skin. Isach closed one of his hands over the knuckles of Nayel's, and leaned back against the kiss.

"I missed you, too." He said, and then he moaned as Nayel carefully took a bit of skin between his teeth and tugged, lightly, sending another shiver up his spine. He heard the rustle of cloth as his hat fell off his head, removed by Nayel's careful fingers in such a way that his hair didn't even catch on it. Nayel certainly loved playing with his hair, tangling and looping it through his fingers and letting the silky strands slide right through. He was doing it now, even.

"Hair like silk... no, like water. Hair like water on a moonlit night." Nayel murmured to himself, his cheek resting on Isach's shoulder. His other hand busied itself trying to undo the buckles of Isach's coat, and Isach couldn't help the stifled little laugh he made as Nayel tugged futilely at the elaborate frames.

He let him keep murmuring to himself, or maybe to him; it was hard to tell when Nayel got like this. He reached up to undo the buckle and Nayel stopped him.

"Wait, I want to do it myself." His fingers dropped from the locks Isach's hair, though he carefully smoothed them out before turning to rest his chin on Isach's shoulder, giving himself a better look at what he was doing. He traced the edges of the buckles, murmuring to himself all the while. "Silver? Something like silver. Nothing rhymes with silver."

"What are you talking about?" Isach laughed, though he wasn't sure Nayel would pay much mind to the question while he was murmuring like that, especially if Isach was  _right there_  while he did it.

Surprisingly, Nayel turned his head and kissed him on the lips, just a quick little peck that silenced him for a second. "Just ideas." He said, finally getting the clasps undone. He traced the pads of his fingers over the skin he revealed, working his way down. "I can't think of any way to describe your skin without being repetitive, so maybe I'll scratch that out in favor of something else instead."

He pulled away. Isach swayed where he stood in surprise as Nayel stopped supporting his weight and turned towards the desk instead. He stood over it, leaning forward on his elbows to scribble something on the parchment, before holding it up to the light with his tongue between his teeth.

"Hmmm, no, I don't think that sounds very good at all. Let's try again." He said, crumpling up the scrap he'd written on and tossing it over his shoulder. Isach was confused, but he didn't have much time to  _stay_  very confused as Nayel came close and pressed their lips together. There was tongue in that kiss, pushing past Isach's slack lips and coaxing his own tongue into joining in on the fun. He moaned for Nayel, gripping his shoulders to steady himself as Nayel dipped him back like they were dancing.

"Have you just eaten fruit?" Nayel teased, licking his lips. "You taste sweet."

Isach blushed again, pale face almost  _glowing_  pink, but he muttered back to Nayel as he caught his lips in another kiss. "I'd have thought that was you. I've never seen you eat anything else, or drink anything but fruit juice, or wine."

Nayel laughed against his mouth, light and pleased. "You're getting better at this." He said, before kissing his way down to Isach's neck. He sucked a small, pink mark against his throat, and Isach shivered.

"Please..." Isach moaned, tilting his head back to expose more of his neck. Nayel murmured something he couldn't hear against it, and then pulled him close again as he bit down carefully over Isach's collarbone.

Isach's fingers clutched tight at Nayel's sleeve, before Nayel pulled him towards the bed this time and he was almost dizzy with how fast things were moving, but he didn't care, he wanted this too; it had been a long week, and since Nayel's introduction to such a pastime, it was hard for Isach to resist him and his charms.

Nayel made it a little easier to resist by pulling away again, though, with an exclamation that left Isach somewhat stunned. "I've got it!"

"You've got what?" He asked, dumbly, and maybe even irritably, as Nayel rushed to the desk again.

"An idea." He smiled at Isach over his shoulder, even as his hand scribbled away. "A song, an ode, to your kisses and your smile."

Isach would have melted at that, had the circumstances been different. Or maybe he wouldn't have; it was hard to tell in the moment with his building frustration.

"Nayel, please." He said, shucking his coat off his shoulders himself. "You can leave your work a little while longer, can't you?" He hated sounding so petulant, even to himself. He wasn't sure if Nayel even noticed it; he just wanted to get on with things now. Once his coat was off, he slid off the bed and wrapped his own arms around Nayel's waist, in imitation of how Nayel had held him earlier, burying his face in the crook of Nayel's neck. "Come to bed with me."

Nayel didn't even look twice at the paper, before he straightened up again and started undoing his doublet, tongue in his teeth, fingers working quickly. Isach wasn't sure if he was working quickly to get to him or get back to work. It didn't suit Nayel, thought Isach, and he slid off the bed to turn Nayel around and push his hands gently away from the buttons.

"Huh?" Nayel was never dumbfounded, in Isach's experience, so the sound gave him pause. He looked up at Nayel's face, seeing him looking distant, almost absent. 

Isach huffed. But he wasn't going to give up so easily. "Did you want to spend time with me or with your songs?" He teased, though there might have been an edge to it this time, as he continued what Nayel had started, undoing the buttons of his doublet, and then the ties of his bracers. He was in just his shirt and breeches now, barefoot and inkstained. Isach's expression softened as he cupped Nayel's face in his hands, bringing their foreheads together.

"You can focus on me for a while, right?" Isach asked him, softly, the world falling away from them, their breath intertwined. "You can put away your pen and focus on something else. Finish what you've started here. We've wanted each other for so long..."

"Of course." Nayel tilted his head and kissed him, another light peck, though this one lingered just a split second longer than the others. Then Nayel seemed to think better of it and pulled Isach into a deeper kiss before breaking it with a smile. "There's no song on my lips that rings better than your name, no wine sweeter than your mouth."

It mollified Isach enough, at least for the moment, that he had Nayel's undivided attention for that. Nayel started undoing Isach's shirt, and Isach slid Nayel's off his slender shoulders, running his hands along the smooth skin he revealed. He could feel Nayel's heartbeat quickening as he touched him, his pulse drumming faintly against his palms. He felt Nayel tense for a moment, muttering something to himself again, and he would have frowned if he hadn't felt Nayel relax into his touch again, leaning against him and swaying softly to an inaudible, imaginary tune.

"What are you thinking about now?" Isach asked, right against Nayel's ear.

"I wish I'd written it down, it's gone now." He laughed. When Isach didn't laugh back, he stopped, and guided him towards the bed again. "It's alright, my love; I'm only joking. I mean what I say when I say there's nothing sweeter for me than you."

It wasn't really the time to joke, Isach thought. But he let Nayel guide him to the bed again, let him undo the buckle on his own belt, let his hands rub soft, warm circles over his hips. Isach only gave him the barest help to get his pants and boots off, of course; he wasn't feeling so forgiving after that earlier display. The sight of Nayel kneeling between his thighs, though, that did a lot for both his frayed nerves and the pressing, greedy heat already prickling at his skin. His toes curled as Nayel kissed his way up Isach's inner thighs, and it was Isach's turn to run his fingers through Nayel's hair, twisting the soft locks of it between his fingers as he guided him ever upwards.

He could feel Nayel humming something against his skin, an aimlessly wandering tune that might have been a folksong and might have been original. It was quieted by Isach yelping in surprise when Nayel bit him again, this time open-mouthed and almost a little too hard.

Isach looked down at Nayel cheekily licking the mark left in Isach's leg, looking up in turn before pressing a kiss to the dented skin. "You blush so prettily, no matter where you're blushing; I can hardly stand it. You blush like you're blooming, and I want to see a garden of you."

"Poetry again?" Isach felt his lips twitch up into a smile despite himself.

"If I can't write my poetry on paper, I'll write it across your body." Nayel purred, and before Isach could say anything more, Nayel took hold of his cock and gave it a tender squeeze. The heat of his hand was enough to make any complaint die in Isach's mouth, replaced by a throaty moan.

Nayel smiled and kissed the head of Isach's cock, and Isach could  _swear_  he felt the grin on Nayel's lips. "I'll write lightly here." He said, and the only warning Isach had was the heat of Nayel's breath before those impossibly soft lips were around him.

" _Nayel!_ " He gasped, clutching at the sheets now, hips bucking up into the tightness of Nayel's mouth. It was perfectly, achingly good, driving him a little crazy with how good it was; where had Nayel learned this? Or was this Isach's own inexperience working against him? It really could have been either; not that he was paying attention to it.

Nayel kept his hips down with his hands, pinning him to the bed while Isach whimpered and tossed his head, while his back arched as he begged breathlessly for more. He would have it, too; the litany of his need came to a choked halt as Nayel took him deeper, and when he looked down he was greeted with the sight of Nayel's mouth wrapped tight around the base of his cock, his eyes practically burning into Isach's own.

Nayel smiled around the flesh in his mouth before slowly, still sucking hard (and Isach could feel that suction all the way up), sliding up off Isach's cock. The slick sound of wet flesh parting away from him was downright obscene, almost as much as the sight of Nayel's smiling mouth dripping with viscous, cloudy spit. Isach felt his voice catch in his throat again as Nayel let it dribble off his tongue.

"You're just impossible." He groaned, covering his face, though more to hide the blush as he felt hot liquid dripping onto his crotch. He heard Nayel giggle and pull away, and for a split second he expected to feel his weight dipping the bed. It didn't come. He waited another few seconds until he heard the scratch of quill on parchment, and then he shot up and stared, aghast.

Nayel was at the desk again, murmuring to himself. Isach coughed, and Nayel had the  _gall_  to look  _sheepish_.

"Really? This again?" Isach didn't even have it in him to  _pretend_  he wasn't annoyed. He crossed his arms, though the flush on his face and his clothes in such disarray probably ruined the effect some. His pants were still around one ankle. "Right in the middle of- of sucking my  _cock_ , Nayel. I have to admit, I'm impressed by your dedication to your craft, but this is patently ridiculous."

"Oh, please, you love it." Nayel's cockiness was usually charming, but the way he flourished the quillfeather this time only made Isach itch to snatch it out of his fingers, the way he smiled made Isach want to pin him to the nearest wall and kiss him hard enough to bruise. 

Maybe that was the point, though; the sparkle in Nayel's eye never left, even with his almost embarrassed posture. Isach wouldn't exactly have a hard time believing that  _that_ was the reason for all these interruptions. Isach shook his head.

"If this is some kind of game to you, I don't feel much like playing along." He said, already crouching down to pull his foot through the tangle of his trousers. "I wanted to help you along with your work, but I can't help but feel like, like you're just not a hundred per cent  _here_  right now."

He only managed to straighten the leg when he heard Nayel's "Oh, Isach..." He opted to ignore it until he felt the dip in the bed and Nayel's chest pressed to his back, slender arms wrapped around his waist again as Nayel tried to ply him with kisses. "Isach,  _Isach,_ really, you know you're more important to me than any  _song,"_

"Not that you're doing a very fine job of telling me otherwise, of course." Isach tilted his head up, but only so he could blow a lock of hair away from his eyes. "I'm sure your muse can't wait as well as I can; I'm  _rapidly_  losing my mood here."

He huffed as he finally got his foot through the leg hole, and then frowned as Nayel turned his face so they were looking each other in the eye. He didn't  _want_  to look Nayel in the eye just then; that made it too easy to stop being angry with him, and Nayel probably knew that, too. 

They were nose-to-nose, and Isach couldn't help but pout. "What is it now?" He grumbled, even though Nayel's watery, dawn-pink eyes were softening him up already. Nayel wasn't much for fair play, of course; he kissed him on the tip of the nose, holding him close and pressing their foreheads together.

"Stay a while longer, my love." He said, nuzzling Isach's cheek. Isach groaned in the back of his throat, something along the lines of "That isn't  _fair",_ though again, Nayel's kisses did a lot to keep him where he was, and not all that reluctantly, he acquiesced.

Nayel pushed him back onto the bed, straddling his hips this time, still kissing him full of lips and tongue and passion. He kept things interesting this way, of course, nibbling every so often with the faintest brush of his teeth. Isach arched up under him, trying to get more skin contact between them, but Nayel always seemed to be just a couple inches too far, just a couple inches teasingly bent over him. At least he hadn't told him not to move his hands, so Isach was free to reach up for him and hold him in place, finally getting the contact he so craved.

Nayel purred as he broke the kiss, kissing down to Isach's neck, and this time it was Isach who stopped the kissing, gently pushing Nayel off of him. Nayel very nearly fell off the bed, overbalanced and confused, and Isach had to admit that he felt a little thrill when he saw that; a sick one, yes, but who didn't have those every now and again for a lover like Nayel?

"What?" Nayel blinked, still breathing a little too hard. Isach stifled a laugh as he sat up, leaning into Nayel, so close their breath intermingled again. Nayel closed his eyes.

And Isach plucks a bottle off the bedside table, a small, simple thing in blue-glazed ceramic, stoppered with cork. He pulled out the cork with his teeth, the pop making Nayel open his eyes.

"Oh, the oil." He flushed a little. "Right. I got overexcited."

"Among other things." Isach teased, though he was the one to kiss Nayel back this time as Nayel tipped the bottle into Isach's palm. Isach sighed as the cool oil slid against his fingers, warming quickly in the heat of his hand; the scent of jasmine and coconut filled the room, tropical and faraway. He breathed deep as Nayel guided that hand to his cock, and Isach started stroking him, relishing in the needy moan he managed to get out of Nayel.

"I should get you more of these. I'll get you as many scents from as many far away lands as I can find." He murmured, and then laughed, brightly. "Not that we'll be making much use of them besides this."

"Hmm." Isach pulled his hand away to tweak one of Nayel's nipples. "I can think of a few other things. But the landlady won't like it."

"Someday we'll have a palace built for it, then." Nayel bit his lip, and poured more oil into his own hand, reaching under Isach and feeling around for his hole. Isach sucked in a breath as Nayel pushed a finger into him. "We'll have gardens richer than a Northern king's, and someone can press the oils for us every day."

"Would that-  _ahh-_  would that even be necessary?" There wasn't much he could say in the face of that. Nayel's clever fingers found every reachable spot inside him that could make him squirm. Nayel practically growled in his ear as he pulled his fingers out, lining the head of his cock with the carefully stretched hole, bracing his hands on Isach's hips.

"With how often I would have you in every part of this palace?" Nayel grinned, teasing, and sucked on Isach's bottom lip as he worked his way into him, muffling his noises, drinking them in before letting him go. "We would absolutely need all that oil."

He pulled back, thrusting in again with a groan. Isach practically clawed at his shoulders, head tossed back in ecstasy so that he didn't notice how Nayel held back, how Nayel watched his every move, every contortion of Isach's face. They'd both had enough teasing, it looked like, but Isach was none the wiser to anything Nayel might have planned.

Nayel leaned down and caught his mouth in another kiss, murmuring words into Isach's lips that he was sure neither of them could hear. Isach could feel it, though: The tingle of magic, electric and subtle at once, pressed right against the delicate skin. He stopped, and started again, and Nayel kept speaking the words against him in a constant drone that almost made him dizzy past the warm, slick friction of flesh on flesh. He didn't say anything in return until Nayel broke the kiss and looked him right in the eyes.

"You're not..." He paused, tasting the words he was about to say. "... You're not about to stop again, are you? I heard you whispering."

Nayel shook his head, though there was a gleam of something in his eyes that Isach couldn't entirely place. On anyone else, maybe it would have made him nervous. On Nayel, maybe it made him a little nervous, too, but the tint of something a little more interesting was creeping in at the edges. He side-eyed him, though not without a kind of fondness to it, even as Nayel came closer again to thread his fingers through Isach's hair.

Isach closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. "You really enjoy playing with my hair, don't you?" He said, as Nayel continued petting his hair. He couldn't entirely ignore the fullness inside him, though, or the way Nayel occasionally shifted his hips to adjust himself inside Isach. When he opened his eyes again, Nayel was still there, still holding onto him.

Nayel grinned at him, reaching between them to stroke Isach's cock with his hand gone slightly sticky from the drying oil. It was still there, of course, still smoothed over the calloused pads of Nayel's fingers, but it was enough pressure and almost-pain that Isach felt his toes curl. Moreso when Nayel pulled on his hair, forcing his head back. Isach groaned as Nayel pulled out halfway, but only to pour more oil onto his cock; the burn of him coming back in made Isach gasp.

"Don't you think it's the strangest thing?" Nayel asked him, his words murmured against Isach's throat. Isach could feel his smile, his teeth. "I'm the only person in the entire world who's thus far been allowed to see this side of you. So pliant and responsive for me, every touch makes you burn."

Isach felt Nayel's hands twine with his own on the sheets, fingers locked with his. Nayel crooned in his ear as he started moving again, their bodies so close that he could feel his weight, though Nayel was careful not to so much as make it any harder to breathe. Or at least, any harder to breathe than it already was, with the movement and the need burning from inside him. He felt more kisses, pressed along the lines of his collarbones, and then down to one of his nipples.

He felt Nayel's teeth close around it, a tingle of almost-pain before Nayel released; it hadn't even really hurt, though it left pinkish dents where Nayel's teeth had been. Isach longed to trace aimless nonsense across Nayel's shoulders, down his arms, just to feel Nayel as he built himself up closer and closer to orgasm. He needed  _more_.

"Nayel, please..." They were forehead to forehead now, and Nayel was still moving too slowly, too carefully. Isach's vision swam, but every time it refocused it only underlined how much this wasn't enough, how much every touch and breath and roll of the hips made him ache. "Come on, you can  _hurt_ me, I need more than this after everything you've been doing to tease me..."

Nayel only laughed, breathy and low, before leaning down to take Isach's lower lip in his teeth. He could feel him murmuring around it, feel his lips moving against his own; Isach arched up to try and meet Nayel's mouth and he only pulled away again.

Isach snapped.

"What in the world has  _possessed_  you tonight?" He growled, struggling out of Nayel's grip. Nayel looked so surprised that he hardly resisted, and that only incensed Isach further. Isach rounded on him, grabbing him by the shoulders and looking right in his eyes, and all he found in them was mild, careless confusion. His face softened, but with a kind of pain. "Do you mean to tell me all this is a game to you?"

Nayel quickly recovered, taking hold of Isach's hands and leaning in to one of them, pressing kisses to his knuckles. "It isn't like that." He said, Isach's fingers threaded through his own. 

The look Nayel gave him was so tender that he couldn't help but think it a farce. Just as quickly, bitterness seeped back into voice. "Should I feel flattered that I'm so entertaining?" He grumbled, though the way nayel rubbed his thumb over the jutting bone of his wrist did make a flutter rise in his chest.

"Nothing like that, my love. I'm sorry for everything." Nayel even bowed his head. Once more, Isach felt the faintest tinge of pity. "Had I not been so caught up in making a song of you, making a game of you, I would have realized you'd wanted no part in it. Can you forgive me?"

The way his eyes shone, how could Isach refuse him? He cupped Nayel's face in his hands, pressing their foreheads together. He could feel Nayel's breath on his face, and his fine, silvery hair tickling against his cheeks.

"Not like this." He said, his own eyes gone steely and dark. Nayel tried and failed to hide his surprise, and Isach pressed on. "If you're going to toy with me, I want it to be on equal terms. A game we both play, not a game for your own amusements." He smiled and kissed Nayel on the tip of the nose, still holding his face. "And besides, I think if you keep things interesting for both of us, you'll have plenty of  _lasting_  inspiration for your work."

Nayel flushed, just a little, just enough that Isach wouldn't have noticed if they hadn't been so close in that moment, but he didn't hesitate to nod, faintly enough that Isach felt it more than he saw it. Nayel took hold of Isach's wrist again, turning his face to plant a kiss on his palm.

"Anything for you, love." He said, smiling against his skin, nipping it gently. "And if you'll let me name your virtues while I do it, all the better."

"There won't be any need for that, but I'm going to try to take your word for it." Isach drew his hand back, but tilted Nayel's chin up anyway, pressing another quick kiss to his lips. "Can we try again? Without the interruptions, this time. Take this seriously. Take  _me_  seriously." Isach's fingers dug ever so slightly into Nayel's cheeks, more a reminder that they were there than any kind of real pressure as he looked deep into his eyes. "You can do that for me, right?"

Nayel breathed in. "For you, I could do anything." He leaned in, heedless of Isach's hands now, kissing him full on the mouth. "I  _would_  do anything." He kissed him again, deeper this time. "I would do the impossible for you."

 

"You don't need to.  _Won't_  need to." Things were getting heated again, Isach found himself panting for breath between words and kisses as Nayel tilted him back against the sheets. "I just need you to pay attention to me. Just for a little while, just until we're done here, I promise."

Nayel laughed, but it wasn't the faintly mocking laughter from before; it was heartfelt, relieved, though Isach couldn't begin to guess what weight he'd taken from Nayel's shoulders with his words. Nayel clasped their hands together and buried his face in Isach's neck, breathing deep the smell of him. 

"As if I could really resist you." He murmured, hands sliding up Isach's arms, over his shoulders and then over his sides, down to his hips. "As if I wasn't trying so hard already to resist you, you draw me in like a fire and consume my very being." He tugged at the lobe of Isach's ear, sharply, enough to make Isach gasp. "You and I, it seems, will devour each other."

Isach snorted, tugging on Nayel's hair, coiling it into his fist. "Not literally, I hope." He purred, tilting Nayel's head back so he could mark up his throat. Nayel's long neck was perfect for leaving a trail of bites, and he moaned with every nip, something that Isach was sure to take advantage of. Tangled in each other like this, it was easy to forget that they were doing anything besides what they were doing now, feeling each other out, finding new parts or rediscovering old places that made each other gasp and writhe.

The main thing that reminded Isach of what they'd both set out to do was the hardness pressed against his hip, his own having come back to life some time ago already. It was slow, but certain; he reached down with one hand to trail warmth over Nayel's abdomen, and then over the head of his cock, listening to the sharp intake of breath next to his ear and the way that Nayel moaned his name.

"Isach..."

"You want more?" Isach took firmer hold of Nayel's cock, stroking up and down, swiping his thumb over the slit at the end and under the cap. He felt Nayel shudder in his grip, felt a little more warm, sticky wetness against his fingers. He could practically feel Nayel's heartbeat in his grip, a jarring enough detail that he felt  _himself_  laugh. "Come on, tell me in detail, we can work it out. You love talking about this."

Nayel took his time composing himself, but bit down on Isach's shoulder as he thrust against his palm, groaning needily. Isach found himself matching the noise as he stroked Nayel's cock. He shivered, gripping Nayel's shoulder with his free hand, grinding up against him. "Please, tell me, I want to hear this..." 

"I want to be inside you again." Nayel didn't stop thrusting against Isach's hand as he spoke; Isach could feel the wetness on his fingers growing thicker. "I want-  _fuck_ \- I want to feel you around me, like you were earlier; but I want to savor the feeling, I swear, I'm not teasing you when I say it but I want to be like this forever..."

He stopped thrusting, taking hold of Isach's hand again and guiding it to Isach's own cock. When he sat up, the air was almost too cold between them, and Isach stared after him, confused.

"I want to see you pleasure yourself as I fuck you." Nayel practically growled, and Isach flushed with the heat in his voice, biting his lower lip at the force of Nayel's desire. "Please. I want to see your face as you come, for me or with me I don't care, but please."

Isach braced his feet on the bed just behind Nayel's hips. The sight of him there was almost too much; he could understand why Nayel would want him like this. He couldn't imagine what he would do if he'd had Nayel in the same position, and there was something exhilarating about knowing Nayel wanted the same thing, could see a side of him like this that he'd never see himself.

He watched every twitch of Nayel's face, every flicker of his eyes, as he started to touch himself. Two fingers circled a nipple before he brought them to his lips to suck on just the tips, and he could feel Nayel tense at the sight, breathing something he couldn't quite hear, words of praise or prayer that caught in his throat when Isach arched his back for him.

"Just like that, you're so beautiful..." He picked up the bottle of oil from where they'd left it lying on the sheets; there would be a stain there, but there was still enough oil in the bottle that he could slick his fingers again. His eyes roamed Isach's body, the way he strained for more touch or maybe to show off more; it wasn't often that Isach was the sort to show himself off, and it was clear that Nayel was taking in every detail.

Isach groaned in the back of his throat as Nayel's fingers found his hole again, feeling around the outer edge before he pushed them slowly in. He hadn't closed up much in the time between when Nayel had been inside him and present, but the friction had worn off and the oil had wicked away into his skin already, and the feeling of Nayel rubbing the perfumed oil into his flesh had him gasping. He pumped his cock faster, hungrily, desperately.

When Nayel positioned himself against him properly, he forced himself to slow down; he wanted to watch Nayel's face in turn as he entered him. The feeling of his cock pushing in made it so he had to struggle not to look away, but it was worth it for every second, the slow, spreading pleasure and the cracks in resolve on Nayel's face. Nayel moaned for him, looking him in the eye when he could refocus, and Isach gave himself a squeeze so he wouldn't come right then and there.

"I want to have everything you'll give me, I want to bear every mark you score into my skin." Nayel guided Isach's free hand from where it was tangled in the sheets to over his heart. His eyes shone, his voice shook; he looked ready to come apart at the seams and he was barely holding on just so he could say all this to Isach. "I want  _you_ , and I want  _all_  of you."

" _Fuck, Nayel,_ " Isach snatched his hand away to cover his mouth with it, but Nayel pulled his hand away from his mouth, his grip stronger than Isach remembered, or maybe just more forceful as he pressed his wrist to the bed.

"I want- I want to hear every noise you make, too." Nayel purred, though his voice had gone rough with lust and emotion now, his strokes erratic with need. Isach only stroked his cock harder, moaning openly; sweat trickled into his hair, making a tangled mess of it, but he was too focused on the way Nayel fucked him, every word that Nayel spoke over him. He felt the world narrowed down to just Nayel's voice, and the meeting of their bodies, the push and pull of giving flesh.

 

He almost didn't catch it when Nayel said his name, murmuring low enough that it was almost lost in their combined, breathy moans. But he listened close and there it was again.

"I love you so much, Isach," It didn't sound like just an admission of fact, or another pretty string of nothings; Isach could  _feel_ it that time, really feel it, down to his spirit and bones, the edges and core of who he was. It was spoken so softly that he could swear Nayel didn't  _want_ him to hear it.

He wrenched his hand out of Nayel's grip to pull him close again, his hand cupping the back of Nayel's neck, forcing him to close the distance between them to barely a hand's breadth.

"Say it again, please; tell me what you just said." He was still working his cock, desperately, teetering right on the edge of actual orgasm. "I need to hear you say it, I'm begging you."

Nayel looked dumbfounded before he began to speak, eyes still wavering from Isach's own to every other part of him. "You're the very essence of all precious things, you're-"

"-Not like that." Isach interrupted him, stopped stroking his cock (though he was loathe to do so) just to pull Nayel closer, just to make his demands clear. "Tell me exactly what you just said. Tell me why you said it the way you said it just now, so quietly, like you were ashamed of it. Tell me what you said."

Nayel seemed to freeze, for a second; that second stretched onwards into ten, or a hundred, or an eternity. But it was only a second, and he recovered with a soft sob, as if something in him had broken- not from an outside force crushing in, but something pouring out, brilliant and overwhelming.

For once, he didn't hesitate.

"I love you, Isach." He said, redoubling his pace, peppering Isach's face with kisses; his eyelids, his nose, his wanting mouth. "I love you so much. I love you."

"I love you, too." Isach finally let Nayel go, but Nayel didn't move away, kept bringing more kisses to his lips, more declarations, aching and heartfelt in their brevity,  _I love you, I love you, I love you._ He felt lost in it, but for once in all the time they'd spent together he  _felt it_. "I love you, too."

Nayel shook over him, his words soon lost in his moans of pleasure, but it seemed to ring through every movement and breath between them; Isach would pet his hair or pull him closer with his thighs wrapped tight around his waist, and Nayel would suck little pink marks on the corners of his mouth or the curve of his throat.

It was right before they came that Nayel found it in him to speak again. With Isach trembling in his arms and clawing down his back,  leaving long, red lines in his wake, Nayel spoke the words right into Isach's mouth. "I love you, Isach."

Isach came hard, something like a scream torn out of him by the sudden rush of orgasm; he could swear he blacked out from the intensity of it, but at the same time, he was too aware of his body to have blacked out. He was too aware of Nayel's pleading, lilting voice, his lips and hands and cock; he was too aware of himself, his back arching and muscles straining, so hard he could swear his thighs would be bruised by the end of this.

He was all too aware of Nayel coming right after him: a strangled, shuddering moan, a long moment of stillness and the feeling of something wet and barely warm inside him, and then Nayel slumping over his body, spent of everything but his smile and the way he ran his fingers through the ends of Isach's long, silvery hair.

He couldn't bring himself to move just yet. It felt like another eternity, but a sweeter one this time, a soft unending where they were the only beings to exist in the world and nowhere outside of the bed was real. Isach would have been content to dissolve into that softness, of the bed and the warmth of Nayel's body beside him, despite the stickiness that clung to his thighs and the sweat that clung to his lashes. He breathed slowly and let the heat and perfume wash over him, lulling him to sleep.

"Isach." Nayel nuzzled his cheek, gently calling him away from that moment. As his eyes fluttered open, the world began to turn once more, and Nayel was the first thing he was met with in the renewal of it. He smiled from where he lay, head pillowed on his curled arm, still flushed from their earlier exertions. It couldn't have been more than a minute or two. "I think we should get cleaned up. It's poor enough form that we did this at an inn, don't you think?"

"And we know you're all about proper forms, of course." Isach laughed, but there was no malice in it now. Nayel's smile only brightened further, impish as ever but with that raw tenderness he couldn't hide from now.

"I'm about beautiful forms, my love; there's a difference. I would have you in every part of the Lake of Sand if you would let me." And Isach might actually let him, in the coming days, or months, or weeks; however long they had and however long they would make for each other. Nayel uncurled from where he lay and stretched, and Isach got to marvel at the marks he'd scratched into his skin. They practically shone, livid and red, and Nayel caught him looking. "Everything you could possibly do is beautiful, Isach. If to nobody else, then to me."

Isach blushed, but he didn't refute it this time. He ached all over as he stretched too, and looked down at himself. He was covered in little pink bites and hickeys, and if he looked at them just right he could swear that Nayel had been trying to nip words into him; but the words, if they were even there, they weren't made to be read by him. If there were words there, they weren't for anyone to  _see_ , though he would carry the feeling for a while yet.

More than that, he would carry the feeling of something else with him, the weight of Nayel's words lingering in every kiss mark, and especially on his slightly bruised lips. He chewed the lower one for a moment, but not in thought; it was more to taste and feel for himself, and there was definitely the faintest tingle of magic left in his skin. He glanced at Nayel, who was already peeling himself out of the sheets, humming to himself as he sat up in the bed. Before he could stand further, Isach wrapped his arms around Nayel's shoulders, burying his face in the nape of his neck.

Nayel stopped humming, but he didn't pull away. He raised one hand to stroke the side of Isach's face, a touch that Isach leaned into a little further. Another moment longer like that and Nayel tried to stand again, but Isach held fast.

There, the buzz of magic just under his skin, stronger with every note that Nayel hummed, as if he were singing it out of Isach's flesh. Isach couldn't help the tremor of nervousness that sank into him, jarring and too cold after the heat of their passion. 

"What is this?" He asked, holding Nayel's hand to his face. The hum of Nayel's spell followed every caress. "It's strange, I didn't know you could work something on a person like this. What did you put on me?"

Nayel's hum of faux-confusion was so transparent that Isach had to resist the urge to smother it with a pillow or a kiss. The urge won out in the end as he kissed Nayel and even bit him, lightly, but enough to sting. Nayel laughed through the kiss and stroked circles on Isach's cheeks with his thumbs, cupping his face like Isach held him earlier.

"It's a declaration, my love,  _of_  my love." He murmured. Isach could feel Nayel's eyelashes on his cheeks, somehow deeply intimate in a way he hadn't noticed before. "Every time I see you today, I'll be reminded of your kiss."

"I don't think you'll need magic for that." Isach hummed against his mouth. "If you wanted my kisses so badly, you could ask for them instead of pining. I think the real thing might be better."

Nayel laughed again, cradling Isach's face still, their foreheads together. "You're a thousand delights, Isach, and even the memory of your kiss could sustain me for a year. You'll spoil me with all your kisses if you kiss me half as much as I want to ask."

"Then be spoiled." Isach sucked on Nayel's lower lip. "You're good at making it look good. But for now, you're right, we need to get cleaned up, and I should see if your inspiration has been helped at all by all this."

"Agreed, of course." Nayel was the first to pull away, finally standing and turning his back to Isach as he stretched. Isach took in the full, unobstructed view of Nayel's back and all the mess he'd made of it, and somewhere in him he felt something like pride.

Maybe Nayel really wasn't the best influence on him, like this, but he couldn't fault him for any of it or the joy he filled him with, like wine and laughter and song, or a color he'd never known before.

He didn't say any of this aloud, though; Nayel was the poet here, though maybe someday he might try. "Would you like me to help with your back?" He said, as Nayel came back to the bed with a basin and washcloths. Nayel looked him over a little before setting the basin on the floor between them, careful to keep it away from the bed.

He held his hand out to Isach, helping him down to the floor as if he were helping him step off a carriage, and dipped one of the washcloths into the cool water. "Let me do the same for you; I wouldn't feel right letting you treat me to such luxury otherwise." He answered, smiling teasingly enough that Isach went and splashed him with a little of the water, flicking it off his fingers. The smile only grew wider. "I'm sorry, I couldn't get enough of the look on your face."

"Of course, though you won't be seeing so much of it if you're wiping me down from behind, will you?" Isach answered, but he turned around and moved his hair over his shoulder. He heard the creak of the floorboards and then felt the cool touch of the washcloth as Nayel bathed him, careful and slow, and he sighed as he started to relax a little further.

He found himself unguarded enough that he didn't pull away when Nayel started pressing light kisses to his neck and shoulders, swiped away by the cool cloth right after they were lain. "You're the most beautiful thing in the world, Isach." Nayel purred, and for once, Isach didn't laugh it off.

Nayel was done washing him almost too soon, and then it was Isach's turn. He marveled at the marks on Nayel's skin now that he could look closely, tracing the lines of them with the pad of his finger before Nayel groaned in pain and he realized they were still tender. Had he broken skin? A closer look revealed that he had, just barely.

As if he could read his mind, Nayel reassured him. "I would gladly wear a thousand of these marks if you were the one to put them there." He said, as he then leaned back against Isach's touch. "You haven't hurt me, beloved; not really. All you've done is given me something of an inspiration."

"For that song you were working on?" Isach dipped the washcloth in the water again, squeezing out the excess and swiping away the oil and excess of their lovemaking from Nayel's thighs. Nayel stretched, shoulders rolling until Isach heard a series of faint cracks. It clicked and Isach found himself blushing again. "You're not going to write about  _all_ of that, are you?"

A pause, lasting maybe half a breath, and then Nayel turned to face him. There was still that teasing curl of his lips, but there was only sincerity in his gaze, almost burning in its earnestness. "I won't. You won't have to worry about that; I'm selfish, Isach. I want to keep the most precious parts of you and all you do to myself."

Isach thought of when Nayel interrupted the two of them just to write his songs and frowned. Nayel's gaze turned somber. "Maybe that wasn't the right thing to say." He said.

Isach dipped the washcloth in the basin again. The water had turned cloudy by now, but they were clean enough. "I think I'd rather hear what you  _have_ to say, rather than what you think is the  _right_  thing to say." If it came out a little sterner than he'd intended, he wasn't about to take it back. The silence stretched on for a little longer this time, and then Nayel spoke, voice raw at the edges like it had been when he'd had Isach on the bed.

"You're right, of course." He began, gulping around a stone in his throat. "But I mean it this time. I'm selfish and self-absorbed; you've seen what I get like. But you're better than that, and better than the games I've tried to play on you."

He clasped Isach's hands in his own, held between them as he rubbed his thumbs over Isach's sharp knuckles. "If you want the proof that I didn't mean to hurt you, that I would never mean to hurt you- that I'm  _sorry_ \- would you come to the show tonight? My troupe and I will treat you like a guest of honor, if you want, or another face in the crowd, if you'd prefer the anonymity. But throughout, I'll only have eyes for you. What do you say?"

What else was there to say? Despite everything, despite frustration and pettiness enough to make him pretend to consider, Isach loved him more than enough that he would never truly deny him this.

"I'll be there." He tucked a lock of hair behind Nayel's ear, his fingers lingering on the side of his face, the tenderness and warmth between them settling like the quiet cool of nightfall. Would Isach ever be able to resist something like this? Probably not.

He didn't mind one bit, though he did feel a little put out with himself when he had to pull away and stand. His knees wobbled, and Nayel's hand wasn't enough to stifle a laugh behind it like this. Isach pouted at him, but when he turned around, he couldn't help but smile as he dressed himself again.

"Sundown?" He asked, when both he and Nayel had dressed. Nayel kissed him on the cheek as he gently ushered him out of the room.

"Sundown." Nayel promised, and Isach closed the door behind him. Every step downwards felt like floating, like a dream, like nothing in the world could challenge him in his happiness.

He did have to admit, though, that the looks he kept getting when he went downstairs made it clear that they hadn't been as discreet as he'd thought. The innkeeper exchanged glances with another patron, and he was sure he heard the clink of coins.

But sundown came and so did Nayel's troupe, a noisy, chattering band festooned with bells and jewel-bright scarves, and the star of them all his lover and beloved.

Instruments were stringed and tuned, and as Isach settled  himself into a seat in the audience, Nayel was the one who looked longingly to him from across the stage, a gleam in his eyes and a lightness in his hands across the strings of his lyre.

"I have a song I've written specially for this evening." He announced to the crowd, though his eyes never left Isach's. "I have a song I've written for someone very dear to me, who doesn't want to be named but whose name I wish the world would sing along with me all the same. Would you hear this with me?"

 _Yes,_  Isach thought.  _Yes, I would sing with you if I had a voice for singing, but I will pour my heart into listening instead_. The crowd leaned forward, silenced as the light dimmed, and Nayel began to sing.

It wasn't at all what Isach expected.

_In summer no fruit was ever so sweet as the sound of my name on your mouth,_

_Nor was in winter a fire or wine that could warm me so much as your touch._

There was lightness to it, as in everything Nayel sang for the audience, but there was something more that he couldn't quite place. The words seemed to blur out in his mind, layered with what he was sure Nayel's intent must be:  _I sing this for you, I want you to know what you mean to me._ Isach couldn't look away, from Nayel's hands and lips and eyes, as if they were being drawn closer by the sound of Nayel's voice.

And then it was over, just like that; the spell broke with the sound of clapping hands and a cheering, whistling audience, and the clink of coins being gathered in a bag. Isach blinked away the last of it and looked up, trying to catch Nayel's eye again, trying to call to him, but he was already swept up in the din and Isach couldn't quite see him through the crush of bodies around him.

Someone pressed a mug into his hands, the bitter-sour smell of alcohol wafting from inside it. He almost spilled it looking for Nayel again, though he clutched at it tightly, nervously, even as he took sips from it every few minutes to wet his throat and calm his nerves. 

He found him, surrounded by a few members of his troupe and a couple of intrigued listeners. Crestfallen, he was about to dip away when Nayel called his name, his eyes twinkling-bright as he gestured for Isach to come to him.

"And my muse, my love; I'm sure I've told you about him, I'm sure you're sick of  _hearing_  me talk about him. This is Isach, and I have him to thank for tonight's performance." Nayel gestured towards him with a sweep of the hand and Isach blinked in surprise before offering a weak wave. Only a few of them seemed to recognize him, but though they didn't move away, he could see the confusion and concern in their faces, and if he looked closely, maybe disgust. But Nayel turned to his small, gathered audience. "We have a chair for him, don't we? Without him I'd have been tearing my hair out in my room still writing that song. Come on,  _find_  a chair."

And they  did. It was surreal, being gathered together by these strangers and brought to sit down beside Nayel. Nayel squeezed his hand, beaming at him, and he couldn't help but smile back. He whispered in Nayel's ear, "I don't understand, why am I here? Aren't you afraid I'll frighten them away?"

Nayel actually looked aghast. But he listened, and thought, and then spoke. "I don't mind or care if they are. We're having a pleasant evening together, and they should be thanking you for inspiring me the way you did." Isach blushed at the implication, but Nayel rubbed his knuckles warmly. "Enjoy yourself, my love; they cheer for you as much as for me."

He looked in Nayel's eyes and maybe he let himself believe what he said; he still had trouble doing that, even now. But he would do it. He drank deeply from the cup he was offered, and when it loosened his inhibitions enough, he had it in him to even speak to Nayel's friends, even if it wasn't long before the noise and heat and people began getting to him.

It was just as well, Nayel pulled him up carefully, leading him away despite protest from his admirers. Isach leaned into the warmth of him as they left the laughter and light behind, back to their room. 

"You didn't have to leave them for me." He said, blinking tiredly. It felt as if he'd been on his feet all day, though he hadn't done much at all. 

Nayel brushed hair out of Isach's face and pressed whisper-soft kisses to his cheeks, nuzzling against the skin just under his ear. Isach felt him speak more than he heard it. "Nonsense, of course, to say that I would rather spend time with them when I can be in your arms and in a bed. I love to perform, but even I need some peace and quiet." Nayel purred, leading him further into the room awash in moonlight from the window.

He could still hear revelers downstairs, but that wasn't where his attention lay, as Nayel tipped them both into the bed in a tangle of limbs. Isach yawned, and then laughed, tossing Nayel's hat to the floor.

"Your arms will fall asleep like this." He whined. But he yawned again, and stayed, listening to Nayel's beating heart.


End file.
